


I Promise I'm Better Than This

by Innocentfighter



Series: Inquisitor Alessandra Cousland, Hero of Ferelden [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Flirting, M/M, Mages and Templars, POV Dorian Pavus, Templar Trevelyan, Templars (Dragon Age), Trevelyan (Dragon Age) has Sibling(s), Trevelyan is not an Inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innocentfighter/pseuds/Innocentfighter
Summary: Arthur flirts and runs away. Dorian isn’t going to let him live this down.





	I Promise I'm Better Than This

**Author's Note:**

> Now for you all to meet the human disaster that is Arthur!

Dorian stiffened when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. It was late, and he had been the only one in the library for some hours. He thought better when he didn’t have people shooting him mistrustful looks every time they walked by him. Slowly he set the book down and tilted his head enough to get a look at the entrance to his alcove.

To his surprise, it was the Templar he occasionally stared at when he was out training with the troops. _Arthur is his name, I believe._ It set Dorian on edge, if only because this seemed random and he was a Templar.

“I didn’t disturb you, did I?”  Arthur asked softly, “I didn’t think anyone would still be awake.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, “I wasn’t doing much to have been disturbed.”

“Ah, well,” Arthur coughed, “I’ll let you get back to it. Sorry again, and good night.”

Arthur stepped away from the opening and moved deeper into the library. Dorian watched him for several seconds as he picked out a book and settled in one of the uncomfortable chairs by a table.

_Not exactly the standard Southern Templar._ Dorian shrugged to himself and pulled out _Medicinal Herbs of Ferelden_ , which he read more to keep himself occupied rather than research. He sat back down in his chair and for a few moments, he read mindlessly. In the distance, he could hear the occasional rustling of a page turning.

Eventually Dorian realized that he had been staring at the same page for the past ten minutes, listening to the other occupant’s progress. He bit his bottom lip before standing up and sauntering over to Arthur. The Templar was curled up in the chair in a way that seemed impossible knowing how large the man truly was. It was nothing short of uncomfortable if Dorian had to guess.

Dorian “accidentally” bumped against the foot hanging over the side of the chair. Arthur twitched and glanced up from his book. Instead of the look of annoyance that Dorian expected it was merely one of curiosity. He wasn’t sure why he was over here, much less trying to engage Arthur in some kind of interaction. Maybe he was hoping for something positive for once.

“Yes?” Arthur kept his eyes on Dorian.

There was no look of disgust.

“I was simply concerned over your posture, you’ll become a hunchback by the time you’re thirty.”

Arthur frowned, and his head tilted further to the left, “and why the concern over my posture?”

Later, Dorian would blame the forwardness of Southerners for the slip of his tongue, “You’re rather too pretty to have a hunchback.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

Dorian swallowed, wondering how he was going to cover his gaffe. It wasn’t a lie, Arthur was pretty with his reddish-brown hair that looked soft to the touch, pale green eyes and a smattering of freckles across his nose. Even the deep scar that ran alongside his nose gave him character. Saying it aloud, however, was something that Dorian had never thought would occur.

“In that barbaric southern way,” Dorian countered.

Arthur grinned softly, “well, if it counts for anything I think you’re pretty in that stuck up northern way.”

That statement caused Dorian to momentarily lose his train of thought. Arthur suddenly shrunk down and the tips of his ears turned red. He suddenly stood up and knocked the chair over in his haste.

“Shit,” Arthur cursed and bent down to pick it up.

Dorian wasn’t entirely sure what he should do with this rapid retreat. It stung, as all minor rejections do but he wasn’t sure why Arthur was the one fleeing when he had done the rejecting. Or would if the question was ever asked.

Arthur gave him one last look, indecipherable in the low light of the library before he bolted out of the door. Once more Dorian was left alone.

* * *

 

> **Codex Entry: Torn Journal Page**
> 
> _I am an idiot and an ass. I’ll be lucky if he wants to talk to me again. Why can’t I control myself around handsome men? Hazel is going to have a field day. At least I can tease her about getting nowhere with the Commander._
> 
> _I should probably apologize to Dorian. Even if he doesn’t want to ever talk to me again._
> 
> _… Also, did he mean it when he called me pretty?_

* * *

“I’m sorry.”

Arthur held his breath as Dorian turned towards him. The face was neutral, so Arthur was going to accept that as not being completely hated. From what he gathered Dorian always had something to say about something he didn’t like.

“Whatever for?” Dorian asked.

“Uh,” Arthur coughed, “for whichever of my actions offended you.”

“So, the running out in the middle of our conversation?” Dorian quirked an eyebrow.

Arthur nodded, “yes, that was not the impression I wanted you to have of me.”

Dorian’s face shifted, and Arthur sighed as he looked to the roof hoping that there was a divine sign. In some ways the Herald was lucky. He fiddled with the hem of his tunic poking out from under his armor.

“And what impression did you think you left me with?”

“That I’m careless with people,” Arthur replied, “that I just say whatever comes into my head and damn the consequences, which I try not to do, but sometimes it happens and it usually ends… badly?”

Dorian chuckled, and Arthur noted it sounded a little strained. _I might be projecting._

“I was hoping that you’d give me another chance to make a proper introduction,” Arthur smiled, but it felt hollow.

“And why,” Dorian said as he leaned back with his arms crossed, “would you, an upstanding citizen of the Free Marches, a Templar no less, want to be associated with an evil Magister from Tevinter?”

Arthur blinked, his arms dropping to play with the hem of his tunic that wasn’t tucked under his armor, “you aren’t evil, you risked everything to warn the Inquisitor at Redcliffe, and I thought you said you weren’t a Magister?”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Dorian tilted his head.

“I think it’s unfair that people judge you because you’re from Tevinter,” Arthur replied, “it has to be lonely.”

Dorian leaned forward, his tone low, “and why would you think that?”

Arthur shrugged, trying to ease the tension, “I mean, it isn’t the same but it’s kind of similar, but people have certain judgments about me because I’m a Templar. The mages just keep glaring at me.”

Dorian let out a soft breath, “they think you hate mages because you’re a Templar?”

“Yes,” Arthur nodded, “but that isn’t the case. They think it is because I support Circles, but they don’t know I would support changing them to something less prison-like, and that I only think the Circles are helpful because they teach Mages the dangers of the fade and demons and blood magic.”

“You aren’t worried about places turning into Tevinter?” Dorian leaned back.

“I think any place should be worried about rampant blood magic.”

“But not that the mages will take over?”

“I rather like our current government, but most mages are decent enough until they get mixed up in bad blood magic.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, “alright.”

“Alright, what?” Arthur frowned.

“We can have a new first introduction.”

Arthur smiled, “I’m Arthur Trevelyan, but most people call me Art or Artie.”

“Dorian of House Pavus,” Dorian grinned, “and just Dorian is fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> He's a sweetie, someone save him.


End file.
